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Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Jackson sittin' in a cell
Tryna make parole
Every week he call my phone
Same tired story told
Said he need a little money
For the canteen run
Chips and soups, chips and soups
That's the whole damn fun
He talk big, then he fold
When that line go cold
"Bro, I swear I got you back"
Man, that line old
I don't trust a handwritten promise
Or a borrowed name
Every call be a new excuse
Wrapped up in the same
[Chorus]
Chips and soups, chips and soups
That all he ask me for
Chips and soups, chips and soups
I'm tired of the score
Jackson keep on callin'
Want that little store
Chips and soups, chips and soups
Man, don't call me for more
[Verse 2]
Sittin' with the payphone hummin'
Pushin' on my patience
He say, "Send it through tonight"
Same old conversation
He got dreams of a boardwalk walk
And a clean release date
But every time he ring my line
It be too late
I learned how to read the pause
Right before the plea
If you broke in one more place
You can't lean on me
He want salt, he want broth
He want crunch, he want heat
I want peace, I want sleep
And my money complete
[Chorus]
Chips and soups, chips and soups
That all he ask me for
Chips and soups, chips and soups
I'm tired of the score
Jackson keep on callin'
Want that little store
Chips and soups, chips and soups
Man, don't call me for more
[Bridge]
[Breakdown]
He say he change, he say he grown
He say he almost home
But every time the phone light up
I feel that same old tone
Maybe one day he walk out clean
Maybe one day he learn
Till then I'm lettin' it ring
Let the next call burn
[Chorus]
Chips and soups, chips and soups
That all he ask me for
Chips and soups, chips and soups
I'm tired of the score
Jackson keep on callin'
Want that little store
Chips and soups, chips and soups
Man, don't call me for more
Details
GeneratedJun 7, 2026
Duration2:39
LanguageEnglish
Style
Rap with a cold, mid-tempo bounce and hard kick-snare swing; verse rides sparse piano stabs and rubbery 808 slides, pre-chorus tightens with snare rolls and clipped ad-libs, chorus drops to a chanty pocket with group echoes on the hook. Vocal is close-mic and urgent in verses, doubled on key bars, with short delay throws and phone-line effects. Ear candy: prison-door slam, filtered tape squeaks, risers into hooks. Mix is dry, gritty, and front-of-the-face., rap
Credits
Prompt by
REDRUM
REDRUMModelAria v5.5
Prompt
Jackson sitting in prison trying to make parole always calling wanting money for chips and soups, rap
